


Shake It Out

by DefyingBoundaries



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, F/M, Horror, Psychological Trauma, Sexy Times, Strong Violence/Language, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:58:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefyingBoundaries/pseuds/DefyingBoundaries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Growing up, I learnt that evil lurked around every corner. This year, everything will change. Sometimes, you've just got to keep some things to yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based along the plot-line of the 6th Harry Potter book, 'The Half-Blood Prince'. I try to comply to canon when possible but due to the circumstances of the plot sometimes it does stray. Setting is between the years 1996 and 1997.

## Chapter One (1st September, Sunday)

I slid the door open to the last compartment in the Slytherin dominated carriages of the Hogwarts Express. I felt like an intruder in this part of the train, but Draco had asked to meet me here. It didn’t stop me from the locking the door behind me though; just because I knew these people didn’t mean I trusted them. I focused my attention on the scenery, bravely putting my back to the door. My head was throbbing and I ran both hands through my hair, my jaw clenched. The hills and valleys were alight with autumn and I mentally congratulated myself for making it through another summer. The house elves had taken to keeping me company near the end, their squeaky voices filling in the silences. It had been only them and I occupying the manor for the majority of the break, except for the occasional visit from my father’s business associates, who collected what they were owed by taking anything I hadn’t hidden from them and left without saying a word.

The door rattled behind me and I turned to unlock it. Draco frowned at me through the glass and I fumbled with the lock, sliding the door open and pressing my lips into a thin line. He didn’t step inside straight away, but appraised me instead with cool, grey eyes. I stepped aside, out of range of his calculating look.

“You look terrible,” he said as he locked the door behind him. I gave a wry laugh and glanced in his direction. He was dressed in all black, his normally angled features sharpened by the contrast of his shirt and pale skin. I’d never seen him look as sick as he did now. I resumed my contemplation of the countryside, my mind on the way Draco’s pewter eyes had lost their shine.

“How was your holiday?” Draco asked; it sounded forced. I narrowed my eyes at my reflection.

“I went to London a couple of times. Did you really bring me here to discuss how miserable my holidays were? Would you like to compare?”

There was a strained silence, interrupted briefly by the muffled rasp of skin on starched cotton as Draco turned his head to scowl at me.

“We had a lot of…guests at the manor. I just wanted to see if you had had anybody call on you.”

“Well, you’ll be pleased to know that I was basically left alone by man, beast and Deatheater.”

I had added the last part as a joke, but was surprised to see Draco visibly baulk at the word. I took in his appearance once more and finally it clicked into place. The Deatheaters had come for him.

“What do you mean by ‘basically’?”

I ignored his question.

“Is that why you called me here, Draco? To see if the Deatheaters had come after the shambles at the Ministry?”

He didn’t answer; any of the remaining colour in his cheeks had drained and I thought he would fade into the walls. I placed a gentle hand on his arm and he stepped back.

“What did they do to you, Draco?”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business,” he replied, his voice clipped and cool. I snorted.

“You seem to have no problem poking your nose into my business! I went to London to try and question the Ministry as to why I couldn’t visit my father; turns out you had my rights of visitation revoked! God knows how! What exactly did you think it would achieve?”

“I was trying to protect you! From _them!_ Your father is a monster; I don’t see why you’d want to visit him anyway. What did he do when he escaped from Azkaban, exactly?”

“You said you wouldn’t bring that up again, Draco,” I snapped. Draco hissed through his teeth, slamming his hand against the window. I flinched and turned my body towards him, fists clenched.

“What’s going on?” I implored, trying to keep my voice level. Draco shook his head, running his tongue over his teeth and his hand through his hair. I sighed, sinking into a seat and staring at the floor.

“I can’t tell you,” he whispered as he sat opposite me, his long legs stretched across the small space between us, his knees brushing mine.

“You’re bullshitting me, right?”

Draco merely offered me a scathing look. I rolled my eyes before frowning back at him.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Worse.”

“Did they threaten you, Draco? Is it about your father?”

A muscle in Draco’s jaw jumped and he swept to his feet, his shoulders tense. I stood, reaching out a hand. My fingers barely grazed his shoulder before he brushed me off. I closed my eyes, trying to hold my tongue.

“Merlin, Draco. If you aren’t going to tell me anything, why did you ask to meet me?”

“I don’t know,” he bit back, “maybe you should leave.”

His words hit me like a slap and I took a swift step back, smacking into the wall. Draco didn’t even bat an eyelid. We stared at each other for a long moment, his grey eyes remaining cold and distant. I bit my lip and grabbed my trunk from the luggage rack. I made sure to keep my eyes on the ground as I left the compartment, slamming the door shut behind me. I blinked back tears, anger bubbling in my stomach like acid. I was so caught up in my frustration that I almost kept walking when I smacked straight into something, until I noticed that there was nothing there at all. My hand went straight to my pocket, reaching for my wand and with a hastened ruffle Harry yanked his invisibility cloak over his head.

“Harry!” I exclaimed; however my chagrin was lost in the croak of my voice. He was unusually distracted as he mumbled his apologies and my anger faltered.

“Are you alright?” I ventured. Harry frowned and then flashed me an unconvincing smile. I fought the urge to scream; _boys!_

“I’m fine; I’m just looking for someone.”

I gave him a doubtful nod. He went to say something but was interrupted unceremoniously by a squabble of shrieking girls as they collectively exited their compartment.

“It’s _him!_ ”

Harry grabbed me by the arm and yanked me into the closest compartment. It was empty except for a lone student fast asleep in the corner. Harry ignored him completely, throwing the cloak back over his head.

“I can see why you’re wearing that now. I don’t see the big fuss really,” I smiled wryly and I heard Harry snort beneath the cloak.

“Thanks, at least I know one girl won’t be chasing me through Hogwarts, trying to tip Love Potion down my throat and screaming to have my children.”

I pulled a face.

“I’d put the potion in your pumpkin juice.”

“Remind me never to accept a drink from you,” his voice floated back to me from beside the door as it slid open.

“There are plenty of others ways to get you to love me, Harry, if I was inclined to do so.”

There was a long silence and I thought he might have slipped out while I was speaking. I frowned and turned to lift my trunk into the luggage rack. It began to slip from my hands and I gasped when a hand shot out from above me, steadying it and sliding the trunk into the rack effortlessly.

“I’m sure there are,” Harry whispered in my ear and I lifted a hand to my cheek where his breath heated my skin. When I spun around the door had already clicked shut and I had been left alone in the compartment with the slumbering student. I sat opposite him, taking in his casual black robes and ruffled brown hair.

“This has certainly been an eventful train ride, hasn’t it?” I directed at him. He heaved in a shuddering breath through his nose and I held in a chuckle.

“Yeah,” I muttered to myself, “me too.”

 

* * *

 

"Where’s Harry?”

I looked up from my empty plate, wiping gravy from the corner of my mouth with the tip of my tongue. Ron shrugged and Hermione craned her neck up and down the table.

“You haven’t seen him have you?” Hermione turned to me and I shrugged, dazed by my headache.

“I saw him on the train. Uhh, he had on his cloak. I think he said he was looking for someone.”

Hermione paled and she ran her fingers through her hair, which bounced back around her shoulders as she shook her head. I watched her carefully as she muttered under her breath. _What did she know?_

“Hermione, if you-“

She waved her hand, cutting me off and I frowned. She turned to Ron, whispering urgently in his ear and the red head shook his head.

“Why would he do that without telling us?”

Hermione shushed him, flicking a nervous glance around the table. I sighed, fiddling with a thread on my cuff. Hermione reached across the table.

“Did he say anything else?”

“I really don’t-“

I was interrupted as a young Hufflepuff girl screamed, hurtling from her seat as a large silver wolf burst from the wall and ran through her head. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as students began to rise from their seats. Dumbledore stood, his voice echoing over the ascending panic.

“Sit!”

Everyone did as they were told, warily taking their seats. The whispers ensued as Hermione and I watched the Head table with calculating eyes. The wolf appeared to address the Headmaster, who waved his blackened hand in acknowledgment. The wolf disappeared into a wisp of silver smoke and my heart thudded in my chest.

“It was a Patronus,” Hermione whispered, “a werewolf. Do you think it might have been-“

She stopped midsentence, her lips pursed.

“No,” I disagreed, “if he was in serious trouble, someone would have come in person.”

Hermione looked sceptical but she remained silent. I watched with anxious eyes as Dumbledore turned to Snape and the younger professor rose from his seat with grimace. Ron began to tap on his pudding bowl with his spoon and I glared at him. Hermione eventually snatched it off of him, hitting him sharply on the head with it.

“Ow!”

“Stop being a pest, Ronald,” she snapped. I stifled a smile.

“Well sorry for worrying!”

Hermione sniffed, opening her mouth to snap back when the doors opened with a bang. Snape strode through with a stony expression on his face, followed by an equally stony faced Harry. Hermione gasped with relief, putting her face in her hands and shaking her head. Harry sat down heavily in the seat next to me, still in his Muggle clothing. He was covered in a crust of dried blood. I took up my napkin, dipping it into my goblet of water and rubbing at the blood on his cheek.

“What happened, Harry, we were so worried!” Hermione hissed at him, digging around in her robes as Harry tried to swat my hand away. I pressed down harder and he glanced at me reproachfully. His eyes flickered over to the Slytherin table briefly before he snatched himself a slice of treacle tart and shoved it pointedly into his mouth. _Not here_. Our eyes followed his glimpse regardless, just in time to see Draco give a wild demonstration of him stomping on someone’s face. I gritted my teeth, my spine stiffening and I looked away quickly. _How dare he?_ I pressed down harder than necessary on Harry’s cheek and he flinched away.

“Sorry,” I muttered through my teeth, rubbing a thumb over his reddened skin. He licked his bottom lip, biting down on it and nodding and I swallowed, putting my napkin down on the table and looking back over at Draco. He was staring back at me, his jaw clenched and a dark look on his face. I pursed my lips, drawing my wand and brushing it over the blood on Harry’s collar.

“Turgeo,” I whispered and the blood disappeared. I became acutely aware of the way the other students had begun to whisper and Harry ducked his head, suddenly intrigued by his pudding. My anger bubbled in my stomach like acid and I pushed my unfinished dessert away. How could he have been so idiotic? I spent the rest of dessert glancing between Draco and Harry, both of them with the same dark expression.

The dishes disappeared and Dumbledore dismissed us. I was left alone with Harry as Ron and Hermione left to take care of the first years. I took Harry’s arm, pulling him aside, out of the steady flow of students.

“What the hell happened?”

“I can’t-“

“-don’t bullshit me, Harry. What did he do to you?”

Harry put a hand to his forehead, kneading between his eyes. He glasses were askew; broken at the nose. I pulled out my wand, repairing them. He mumbled a thank you, shuffling on his feet.

“Harry,” I pleaded and he sighed.

“I went to the Slytherin carriage to spy on Malfoy. He found me though, so when everybody had left the train, he immobilised me and then broke my nose. I would be back in London if it wasn’t for Tonks.”

I turned away from him, throwing my hands into the air before spinning back to poke him in the chest. 

“Are you serious, Harry?! Are you an idiot?” I snapped at him. Harry fisted a hand in his hair, clenching his eyes closed.

“I think Malfoy-“

I clamped my hands over my ears childishly. He stared at me, exasperated and I dropped my hands.

“Talk about him as much as you want with the others, but not to me. I don’t want to hear it.”

Harry’s shoulders slumped and I softened. I stepped closer, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my cheek to his heartbeat.

“I’m sorry he did that to you, Harry.”

Harry squeezed me closer. His chest heaved with a sigh and he rested his chin on the crown of my head.

“You don’t have to apologise for him, Katie.”

I shrugged out of the hug and Harry took my hand in a gentle grasp. We walked in silence amongst the last trickle of students to ascend the stairs. Several fifth year Gryffindor girls cast a look at our clasped hands and began to whisper into each other’s ears. A girl in the middle turned to look at me with an icy glare and I suddenly recognised them from the train.

“I think you’ve made your admirers jealous over nothing.”

“Let them be jealous, at least it’ll keep them off my back.”

“Unless they rip me apart, limb by limb and feed me to one of Hagrid’s pets.”

Harry tried to look aghast but failed, dissolving into laughter. I chuckled along with him, earning another glare from the brunette in front of us. I poked my tongue out at her and she gasped, hissing furiously into her friend’s ear; the friend turned to give me the finger. I returned it with a tight smile. Harry grabbed my other hand, fighting back his laughter.

“Don’t provoke them!”

We both laughed again and he nudged me with his shoulder and I pushed back. He stumbled a bit, throwing his arm over my shoulder and pulling me to his side. I glanced at him sideways but he was looking straight ahead, fixated on the stairs. I didn’t shrug him off, the warm weight of his arm across my shoulders eased my headache and I leant further into his side.

“You have all the moves don’t you?” I giggled and he blushed.

The redness in his cheeks didn’t fade until we were well inside the common room, where he dropped his arm from my shoulder and walked over to Hermione and Ron. Hermione leapt from her seat, yanking him over to the couch and pushing him into it. I smiled to myself, turning away and heading up the dormitory steps. My trunk was open, waiting for me but I ignored it, taking the time only to remove my robes before I buried myself under the covers. I fell into a half slumber, interrupted only when Hermione muttered a goodnight from the bed next to me, which I returned quietly before I fell into a restful sleep, the ghost of Harry’s arm still warm on the back of my neck.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It doesn’t look dangerous, does it?” Harry was looking over my shoulder and I shrugged. He was looking for reassurance, but for some reason I couldn’t give it. It looked innocent enough, but something in the pit of my stomach churned with unease. I flipped through the pages until a single word caught my eye.

 

## Chapter Two (2nd September, Monday)

 

 

The corridors buzzed like the inside of a hive; some students flitted around, hastily running for their next lessons whilst others hovered lazily outside classroom doors. I scuffed my foot impatiently on the marble floor, eyes fixed on the closed door of the DADA class. I wondered briefly whether the students were in such a hurry in these corridors to escape the clinging cold of the dungeons. A snap of clothing as it whipped past my face startled me from my fixation and I eyed Professor Snape warily as he stalked past his students. He turned abruptly at the door, seemingly fixing each one of us with an icy glare. I bit back my amusement at the similarities between his personality and the dank dungeons he preferred to inhabit.

“Judging by the lacklustre air about you all, I’m guessing most of you passed your OWLs by luck alone. We’ll see how easy it is to wittle you down once you realise that it’ll take more than _luck_ to get more than a Troll this year.”

I heard Hermione sniff from the back of the group and I narrowed my eyes at the greasy professor. He returned my look with a twist of his lip and once again turned his back to the class, unlocking the door and sweeping inside. The rest of the class followed behind hesitantly and I heard multiple gasps as to the front of the class. I took a seat at the back, my eyes following theirs and I realised with a jolt of horror that three graphic pictures rested against aged easels. My eyes fixed on the twisted form of a woman, her mouth open in a scream and her eyes glassy with agony. My hands fisted upon the table and I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t need to read the plaque on the frame to know what that curse was.

“Sit down, you’re wasting my time,” Snape drawled from the front and the remaining stragglers rushed to a seat.  Somebody raised their hand as Snape made to turn to the chalkboard and he sucked in his cheeks, giving them a sour look.

“Sir, what are those pictures?” the student swallowed with difficulty.

“Past teachers may have spared you the sight of the spells they warned you about, but I do not coddle. They are there to teach you what it looks like to suffer underneath Dark magic. It is not enough to just tell you that Dark magic is painful and twisted, often it must be seen to realise its… grotesque nature.”

The questioner sank into her seat, her eyes inadvertently flickering to the pictures although her face grew paler with each glance. I grimaced, trying to keep my eyes on my desk. Snape began to write on the board. His spiky writing was sharp to the eye and the words merely confirmed what I already knew about the pictures.

“Can someone tell me what the kiss of a Dementor involves?”

“They suck out your soul,” somebody whispered from the back and everyone swivelled to look at him. Blaise Zabini was hunched in his seat, his brow puckered as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

“A sufficient answer; the soul is the essence of your person. You can be kissed by a Dementor and still function biologically, but without the ability to do anything on the spiritual plane you might as well be dead. In fact, it would probably be preferable. There is no way to kill a Dementor, but you can repel it. How would you do so?”

Snape scanned the room with a bored expression, tapping his wand lazily on the desk. I watched Hermione’s hand twitch on the desk but she didn’t raise it. Nobody said a word. Snape turned to the board again and scribbled the words ‘ _Expecto Patronum’_ beneath ‘ _The ‘Kiss’’._

“What about the next picture?”

I let my eyes wander to the middle picture, stomach churning at the pool of blood and body parts that glistened even in the absence of light. The word on the board read _‘Inferi’_.

“It’s just a bloody puddle. What are we supposed to think?”

Everyone turned again to look at Draco, who sat half in shadow beside Blaise. The part of his face that was showing was gaunt and I sucked in my bottom lip, eyes narrowed. Snape’s eyes narrowed also, his arms folded across his chest.

“This puddle is what is left of a man after he has suffered the wrath of an Inferius. During the wars before you were born, there were enough people killed to build an army of them. They are formed by Dark magic; reanimated corpses bound only to their master’s will. They will destroy anything that stokes their bloodlust. No wizard stands a chance against the power of the Inferi. However, they can be shielded against; how?”

This time Hermione did raise her hand and Snape rolled his eyes. She took his silence as liberty to speak.

“Inferi are creatures of the darkest of magic. Therefore, anything that produces light or heat could repel an Inferius. A whole army of them though, that could take something as wicked as Fiendfyre; but that could also not work, being of a dark nature itself.”

“Correct,” Snape drawled, unable to find fault with her explanation. I bristled slightly at his condescendence.

“And what about you, Miss Dolohov. What can you tell me about the last picture?”

I met his gaze with a fiery glare and bit into the side of my cheek so hard it drew blood instantly. I stayed silent, avoiding the picture by keeping my eyes on his face. The entire room was silent except for the occasional creak of a chair as people turned to look at me. Eventually I let my eyes fall to the last picture and I felt the same wave of sickness roll over me.  I noticed he hadn’t written anything in the bored. He wanted me to say it. My mind flitted briefly to the memory of fourth year; the squeals of the spider as it had writhed in pain, the same squeals that were ripped from my throat in the confines of my own home. The next breath I took was with difficulty.

“It’s the Cruciatus curse.”

“What do you know about it?”

There was a challenge in his question and I met his eyes again, anger replacing the sick feeling in my gut.

“You know exactly what I know about, you heartless bastard,” I hissed. There was a brief spasm in the muscles under his eyes before Snape returned to the same sour expression.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor. Now answer the question.”

I heard the sharp intake of breath from both ends of the classroom; one from Hermione, the other from Draco. I stood from my seat, planting my hands on the table to stop the shaking.

“The Cruciatus curse is a curse designed to cause torturous pain. It is an Unforgivable and rooted in the history of the darkest of magic. It triggers every nerve in your body, like every individual one has been set alight. You’d never have known you could _feel_ so much until you can feel the fire licking at your skin. It’s worse than anything you could ever imagine. It takes the air from your lungs, so that even screaming the agony away isn’t an option. All the victim can do is take the pain and hope it will kill them. The worst part about it is knowing that the caster wants to bring you this pain, wants you to feel it. They know that it won’t kill you, but it makes it easier for them to murder you if you’re begging for death at their feet, doesn’t it Professor?”

Snape stiffened; his eyes were hard and dark like the unforgiving surface of obsidian. The entire class had gone deathly quiet. The only sound I could hear was my own ragged breathing in my ears and I realised I was crying, the hot tears searing trails into my cool cheeks.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Miss Dolohov,” Snape sneered through gritted teeth, “and I think a detention this weekend will also do you misbehaviour well.”

“Fuck you,” I growled, snatching up my bag and storming out of the classroom. I saw Draco shift in his seat but Blaise held his arm, whispering something in his ear even as his own eyes followed me to the door. I didn’t look back as I slammed the door behind me.

* * *

 

“Miss Dolohov, I’m afraid Professor Snape will not have you back in his class.”

I looked away from McGonagall, sighing deeply.

“In all honesty, Professor, I doubt I need to take the class anyway. I didn’t get an Outstanding in my OWLs because I was _lucky_ ,” I repeated Snape’s words with spite, absently taking a biscuit from the tin McGonagall offered me. Her expression was sombre.

“The consequences of your actions run deeper than that, Miss Dolohov. The detentions have been revoked, which Professor Snape disagrees with. He did not take kindly to your insinuations.”

“Insinuations,” I repeated quietly. McGonagall pulled her lips into a thin line. She nodded my dismissal without a word and I stood from my seat, the door clicking softly behind me.

* * *

 

I lounged on my belly in front of the fire, half dozing as the warmth washed over me like a blanket. Harry had his feet tucked beneath my stomach, his bottom lip between his teeth as he flipped the pages of his Potions book. Hermione glared at him occasionally from her own book. She huffed as he muttered something to himself and I glanced between the two. Ron cleared his throat. Hermione huffed again pointedly and Harry slammed the book shut.

“Stop that! It’s just a book, Hermione!”

“It’s cheating,” she replied through clenched teeth. Harry rolled his eyes.

“You’re just uppity about it because it worked.”

Hermione pursed her lips, slapping her own book onto the table between them. Harry stared at her, an exasperated look on his face.

“You shouldn’t follow the instructions of a book so blindly, Harry. What if it’s a trap?”

“It’s hardly Riddle’s diary, Hermione. It’s just a second-hand potion book that somebody altered to achieve better results. If something goes wrong, it’s my own fault.”

“So you’ll just cheat until then?” Hermione snapped. Harry sighed, throwing his head back against the chair.

“I don’t know what I find worse; the fact you still think following different instructions is cheating or the fact you think something going wrong is inevitable.”

Hermione stuck her nose in the air, snatching her book from the table and storming out of the common room. Ron cleared his throat, muttering something incoherently before following her. Harry threw the book onto the table with a frustrated growl. It slid off the edge, landing beside me. I picked it up, but he wasn’t looking. I flicked it open. The book looked just like any other, if you ignored the dark smudges in the margins and on the space around the edge of the page. However, when I looked closer I realised the smudges were lines of cramped writing, or single words that read like spells, with arrows illustrating complicated wand movements. I squinted at it; the scrawl was familiar, but I couldn’t place it in any clear memory.

“It doesn’t look dangerous, does it?” Harry was looking over my shoulder and I shrugged. He was looking for reassurance, but for some reason I couldn’t give it. It looked innocent enough, but something in the pit of my stomach churned with unease. I flipped through the pages until a single word caught my eye. I ran my finger over it, brow puckering in a frown. The word felt cold beneath my fingers and I felt the ice flow through my veins briefly. I snapped the book closed and stared blankly at the front of it. I knew that spell, had _seen_ it. To think it had originated in the book of a teenager made me feel sick.

“Just be careful, okay?” I whispered, handing him the book. Harry glanced at it before shoving it deep into his book bag. His toes tickled my stomach as he shifted from his seat, flopping on the floor beside me, his face to the ceiling. He appeared to be deep in thought and I shifted my weight on my forearms. He turned his head, his hair sticking up and his glasses askew as he grinned at me goofily.

“What are you up to, you goose?” I teased, pushing his hair back from his forehead with the back of my hand. He caught my wrist with his hand and tipped me off balance and I punched him lightly in the side.

“Oh, you wound me,” he gasped, putting the back of his hand to his forehead and rolling his eyes back.

“Whatever, Harry,” I laughed, rolling back onto my stomach. He mimicked me, both of us staring into the fire. The reflection danced in his glasses, setting his eyes aflame. I nudged him lightly with my shoulder and he bumped his head softly against mine.

“How do I deserve a friend like you?” I murmured and he looked at me sideways, his eyes bright with confusion.

“Katie, I-“

“-HEADS!” somebody yelled from the other side of the common room and we both swivelled to see the battered Quaffle flying at our heads. Instinctively I reached up and snatched it from the air before it could strike me. The fifth year walked over, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Nice catch,” he chuckled nervously and I smiled at him.

“Thanks, but maybe next time aim for his head instead. It’s thicker than mine.”

“Hey!” Harry squawked as the boy walked away blushing. I held my hands up defensively, trying to hide my smile by burying my face in the carpet. It didn’t work. Harry lifted me off the ground, crushing me to his chest as he spun me around in circles until I screamed for mercy. He set me down on unsteady feet and flung an arm over my shoulder.

“I didn’t know you had reflexes like that! How did you keep that secret hidden?”

“I guess I never found it important enough to tell anyone.”

Harry marched me over to the noticeboard, slapping his hand against the Quidditch try-outs sheet. I shook my head vigorously. My words seemed to be stuck in my throat.

“Just think of it as a bit of fun really,” he said to me as he scrawled my name underneath Seamus’. I swallowed with difficulty.

“Fine, but if it’s a disaster I’ll castrate you Harry James Potter.”

Harry just grinned at me.

* * *

 

_The familiar choking coldness wrapped around my neck, caressing my skin like the fingers of faceless enemies. Every shallow breath I took obscured my vision in a puff of white cloud. I stumbled on the rumpled edge of a bloody carpet, the smear of red still wet. It glistened as I lowered the candle next to it and I recoiled as my knuckles brushed through it. It was warm and sticky and I dropped the candle in my haste to get away. It clattered against the stone floor, the flame snuffed out as wax spilled to the ground. I screamed into the dark. I stumbled to my feet, my pyjamas soaked with blood. There was somebody slumped against the wall, their shape outlined by the slant of the moon that peeked through the thin window in the hall. I clumsily made my way over, my knees stiff. They were still as I neared them and I felt hot tears on my cheeks._

_“Privet?” I whispered but they didn’t stir. I tried again in English. As I came up to their side I slipped again, landing with a wet thud in a pool of blood at their side. I cried with earnest now, shaking the limp body with damp hands. I didn’t hear my father approach behind me until the candlelight washed over me, throwing the body into deeper shadow._

_“Papa!” I whimpered but he looked past me with cold eyes. He stretched the candle further, throwing the face into light and when I turned I didn’t understand it. The face I usually saw was not there; instead I was staring into the face of the stranger on the train. Blood pooled at the corners of his mouth, red tears in his glassy eyes. Then he opened in his mouth in a wide grin and said my name._

_I didn’t realise I was shrieking until his hand closed around my throat._

***

My eyes opened to a world smeared with red and I slammed my palms against my eyes, rubbing them until my eyes felt raw. I swiped the back of my hands across teary face, staring down at the blurry outline of my bare legs tangled in the blankets. I slumped back onto my mattress, burying my wet cheeks into my pillow to mask my heaving breaths. There was a rustle as somebody resettled themselves and I listened to the even breaths of my roommates until I drifted back into a fitful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Privet' is the phonetic translation of 'Hello' in Russian. If it isn't correct or you think it is spelled wrong, please feel free to leave feedback and I will happily change it.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also posted at fanfiction.net and HPFF. Feedback is appreciated. Chapters should be posted every week or two, unless I get busy with assignments for Uni.


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